Carrying Torches
by ladyphlogiston
Summary: AU Pride and Prejudice, set in the 1920s. Secrets, slang, cocaine and probably some show biz. See profile for link to slang dictionary.
1. Chapter 1

I was going to do lots of reading and research for authenticity, but I have a feeling that aiming for authenticity will do more to make this boring than to make it fun. So let's get this party started. (I am trying to get the slang more or less right, and if you know more about the twenties than I do, feel free to point out any major problems.)

Also, this won't be an especially exact retelling of P&P. We know the book already; I don't feel the need to follow every nook and cranny of the plot. If I can keep the characters themselves I'll have done my job.

* * *

"Lydia, you are not coming! You got perfectly ossified at the last one, you know you did!" Lizzie said, pacing up and down the room.

Lydia rolled her eyes and switched on the radio on the table. She tinkered with it until jazz filled the room.

"Lighten up, doll," she replied, flipping her bobbed hair, "You've no reason to stop me. I'll go if I darn well please."

"Language, Lydia," Jane said from the couch, where she was altering her dress.

"You can come with me, if you like," offered Mary, "I'm sure the meeting will be very interesting tonight."

"Who wants cocoa and bluenoses when they could be hoofing it all night?" demanded Kitty.

Lizzie sighed. Lydia would be going to Mr. Lucas' "tea party," and she'd no doubt have far too much tea. Again. Lydia might be the youngest but she was always ahead of her sisters - the first to get her hair bobbed, the first to start smoking, the first to use all the newest slang. Papa didn't care and Mama just wanted her favorite daughter to be happy. And with Kitty always supporting her, Lydia never felt the need to listen to her older sisters.

Mary and Kitty were still fighting, and Lydia had turned away from her sisters and was dancing the Charleston to the music from the radio. There seemed to be little point in arguing any further. Lizzie picked up her new cloche hat and fit it over her bobbed hair, examining the effect in the mirror.

"...and anyway, Mama wants her to go!" Kitty yelled at the end of a tirade.

Lizzie looked up. "Why?" she asked.

"Didn't you hear? There's a new swell in town. He's the Real McCoy - rich, handsome, you name it," Kitty replied.

"What's the moniker?" Lydia asked, pausing to look at her sister.

"Bingley, according to Mrs. Lucas. Mr. Lucas invited him," Kitty explained.

"Huh. Well, there you go, Lizzie. Mama wants me to meet Mr. Bingley," Lydia said. She lit up a cigarette and threw herself down on the couch.

"Butt me," asked Kitty, sitting down next to her and holding out her hand.

Mary tutted and left the room. Lydia handed her sister a cigarette and helped her light it.

Jane shook out her dress and held it against herself. The hem was a good two inches shorter than it had been. "Do you think that's all right?" she asked, looking anxiously at Lizzie.

"Looks swell to me," Lizzie smiled. "Maybe I should do mine, if we're getting dolled up for the new big shot."

* * *

"Ladies and gentleman, we are Curtis Carlyle and his Six Black Buddies! Now you all just syncopate a little..."

The jazz wasn't as hot as the big clubs in New York, but it was still enough to get people dancing. The floor was covered with couples when the door opened and three people the girls had never seen before walked in.

Lizzie happened to be dancing with Charlotte Lucas when they came in, so she stopped when she saw them. "Do you know which one is Bingley?" she asked.

"The blond one in the middle. The woman must be his sister. He told Papa he might bring her. I don't know who the third is."

"Just as well, really. He doesn't look like a fella worth knowing."

Mr. Lucas went over to welcome the newcomers. Mr. Bingley introduced his sister and friend. His sister smiled and simpered. His friend just scowled at the room.

Mr. Bingley turned away, and the music took over. Lizzie watched Mr. Bingley and his sister each collect a drink in a tea cup. Bingley's friend refused a drink and just stared around the room.

Charlotte slipped away through the dancers to speak to her father, and then came back to tell Lizzie that the woman was indeed Caroline Bingley, and the third man was Will Darcy, a friend of Bingley's who had especially asked to come tonight.

"Well, you'd think if he wanted to come he'd live a little. He hasn't even had a drink. Any dough?" Lizzie asked.

"Oh, loads. He's even richer than Bingley."

Lizzie danced a little longer, and then when the band rested, she went over to Jane to fill her in. While they were talking, Bingley came over and introduced himself, towing Darcy behind him.

"Well, baby, you want to dance?" Bingley asked Jane, holding out his hand.

Jane smiled her brightest smile and put her hand in his. Bingley started to lead her away, but turned back to Darcy.

"Oh, come on Darcy, don't be such a wet blanket. Dance with Lizzie," he said.

Darcy looked at Lizzie and turned his scowl on his friend. "You have got to be kidding, Bingley. You've got the only girl here who isn't a total pill."

Lizzie scowled back at him. "Says you", she replied.

He glanced at her, and then stepped away.

Jane let go of Bingley's hand to go back to her sister, but Lizzie waved her off. "Everything's jake, Jane. Go dance," said Lizzie, taking a step back.

Charlotte came up and grabbed her arm. "What's eating you? You look furious!"

"That Darcy of yours said I'm an absolute pill! Right to my face!"

"He didn't!"

"Well, close enough," Lizzie amended, "He said Jane was the only girl who wasn't a pill when Bingley told him to dance with me."

"Well that's just baloney, and you know it," replied Charlotte. "Come have some giggle water with me."

"Sure thing," Lizzie walked with her towards the bar. Kitty was drinking what was clearly not her first cup, but Lydia wasn't in sight.

"Kitty, where's Lydia?" Lizzie asked as she sat down.

"Dunno. She went off with some sheik to neck, I think. He said he had a hot breezer outside."

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but she knew she couldn't stop Lydia from doing whatever she wanted. "Don't drink too much, Kitty," she warned.

"Oh, pipe down, Lizzie," Kitty whined.

Lizzie sighed and took a sip of her own hooch. It was pretty good. She sat down next to Charlotte and let the music wash over her.

* * *

_So that's the first chapter. If you think you know what has Darcy in such a foul mood, let me know in the reviews! Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

_I've had a request for a glossary, but since I'm pulling almost all of the slang from the same source it doesn't make sense to reproduce it. So there's a link in my profile to the glossary I'm using so you can use it too._

* * *

Bingley was delighted. Jane was probably the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. No, make that definitely the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. She didn't wear heavy makeup and the latest, shortest fashions like his sister did, but there was real beauty in her face that her light powder and lipstick only accentuated. And Jane was a wonderful dancer. Bingley had fancied up the dance with every move he knew, and she had followed him through it like they'd been dancing together for years.

"Charles? Is everything all right?" Jane looked up at him, her brow furrowed. She shouldn't be worried, especially not on his account.

"Everything's wonderful," he reassured her. "I was just thinking."

She smiled at him. "Oh, I'm so glad. I was worried you were tired of dancing. I'm afraid I can be a real 'floorflusher' sometimes."

He smiled back at her. "No, I love to dance too. Maybe I could take you to a club I go to in New York sometime. The music there is really something. I think you'd love it."

"It sounds wonderful. Do you go to New York often?"

"Sometimes. We have a house there, but it's awfully noisy sometimes. That's why I wanted a house out here, too. It's a few hours' drive."

"Do you have your own car as well?"

"I do - a Studebaker Big Six. I'd love to drive you up in it."

"That sounds divine. Lydia and Lizzie have learned to drive, but I'm afraid I haven't yet."

"I'll have to teach you then! Perhaps I could come by tomorrow and we could take a short drive?"

* * *

Lydia stubbed out her cigarette and leaned back in the front seat of the parked car, enjoying the crisp autumn air on her face.

"This is just the cat's meee-ow, Denny," she said, stretching out the word into a kind of purr.

He grinned at her. "Ain't every day I find a doll like you to bring out here. You want another snort?" he offered, holding out the bottle of bootleg gin he'd pilfered from behind the bar on the way out.

"Sure thing." She took the bottle and drank, trying not to wince from the harsh taste. She usually drank highballs, which were sweeter and lighter. But highballs were old news. She took another drink and coughed a little.

"Hey baby, you okay?" he asked.

"Everything's copacetic," she replied, leaning towards him.

Denny drew her face towards him and kissed her. "Copacetic it is," he said, smiling. He kissed her again.

She pulled back from the kiss, her eyes sparkling. She took one more swig of gin, and put the bottle on the floor at her feet. Then she began peeling off her silk stockings.

Denny watched appreciatively. "Wow, baby, I knew you were a live wire," he laughed.

She rolled up the stockings and put them neatly in her purse. Stockings weren't cheap, and if she tore these Lizzie would scold.

"Live as anything," she said, and climbed into Denny's lap.

* * *

Darcy turned and looked back at the dance floor. He'd thought he'd seen him, but when he got closer he saw the man was a stranger after all. He had to be here. Somewhere.

Charles was dancing with Jane Bennet. She really was quite a doll, and an excellent dancer, though not as flashy as some.

Darcy glanced at a table near the bar, where Lizzie and Charlotte were lounging with their drinks and laughing together. She wasn't actually that unattractive. Was it worth it to go back and apologize? Probably not. He didn't care what she thought. He just wanted to be done with this business.

Caroline came up from behind him, hooked her arm through his, and started to pull him forward. "Come on, daddy, you have got to take me out there," she said.

He rolled his eyes, but let her pull him forward and drape herself over him. He began to dance, still scanning the room.

She watched him intently. "They've got some real strike-me-dead here," she said after a minute.

Darcy just grunted.

"My brother is still dancing with that skirt he found," she tried a minute later. "He's such a sap."

"True."

She rolled her eyes. The song came to an end, and she threw her hands down and walked off, towards the bar. Darcy moved to the wall to keep watching the room.

* * *

Kitty was the first to see Lydia re-enter the room. She waved enthusiastically.

"Lyddie! He is such a sheik! Did you get some nookie? Your stockings are twisted, do you need me to help you straighten them? You have to tell me everything!" she squealed.

"Pipe down, Kitty," Lydia snapped. She it took her a minute to sit down, because the room seemed to be tilting oddly. She put her head in her hands.

"Looks like you need a hair of the dog. I always say there's nothing that picks you up like a little more knock-me-dead," Kitty giggled over her witticism. She gestured wildly in the bartender's direction, and he nodded. A waiter brought over two more drinks.

Lydia took a cautious sip of hers. At least it was a cocktail, and not straight gin. She'd be fine soon.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Lydia, how much have you had?" demanded Lizzie's voice.

She rolled her head to the side and saw her sister looking down at her. "None of your beeswax, Lizzie!"

"It looks to me like you've had more than enough. Now lay off, or you're going to upchuck pretty soon."

"She's perfectly copacetic!" Kitty said indignantly. "She's having a great night, and you don't need to bother her with your manners piffle. Stop being such a killjoy!"

"Leave me alone, Kitty," Lydia snarled. "Who asked you?"

"This isn't about manners, it's about what's healthy," Lizzie patiently explained. "Lydia, you need to go home."

"You gonna give me the bum's rush?" Lydia demanded.

"I'm not going to force you anywhere. In another few minutes you'll fall asleep anyway. Now do I need to carry you?"

"Oh, beat it, Lizzie!" Lydia said, turning away from her sister to ostentatiously watch the band.

Lizzie sighed and walked back to Charlotte.

* * *

As the band started up, Darcy saw him, talking to the lead singer. Darcy pushed away from the wall and threaded his way through the crowd, towards the band.

His quarry finished his conversation and left through a set of doors on one side. Darcy followed him and found himself in the kitchen. Waiters and cooks stared at him as he followed the gray fedora through the steam.

He left the kitchen, but Darcy was right behind him, and grabbed his arm as he turned the corner onto the alley.

"Wickham, you rat. Where is she? Where's my sister?" Darcy demanded.

* * *

_And that's our chapter :) This was actually inspired by the original scene. Darcy's direct rudeness in the book (go read the original text - he actually made eye contact with Lizzie immediately before the "tolerable, but not handsome enough" line, so he must have known she could hear him, which gets glossed in the adaptations) is fairly out of character for him, and I've always thought it's because he'd come to Netherfield fresh from dealing with Wickham and his sister. So Wickham being literally present and causing Darcy to behave rudely isn't far from Wickham being figuratively present and causing Darcy to behave rudely._

_Love it? Hate it? Think I'm insane? Leave a review and let me know._


	3. Chapter 3

_I have a theory that writing chapters for two different stories every week will eventually make my head explode. So I'm thinking of switching off - this will be a Torches week, and next week will be a Gathered week, and so on. We'll see how it goes._

* * *

Wickham carefully resettled his hat on his head and smiled blandly up at Darcy. "I'm sorry, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"She's been gone a week. She was seen leaving with you. Somehow those two facts seem connected to me."

Wickham shrugged, hampered by Darcy's grip on his arm. "Sorry. Haven't seen her since we went dancing that night. Maybe she ran away. You're awfully good at disappointing people, after all."

Darcy let go of Wickham's arm and punched him in the stomach. "You're a rat, Wickham, and you know it. Where is she?"

Wickham straightened up and leaned back against the wall. He was still gasping for breath, but his grin was maddening.

Darcy punched him again, this time in the face, and blood started flowing from his nose. "Where's my sister, Wickham?" he roared.

Wickham wiped the blood from his lips and bent down to get his hat. He grinned at Darcy and started to sing softly:

"A bullfrog sittin' on a lily pad, lookin' up at the skies..."

Darcy slapped him. "My sister, Wickham. I will find her, and when I do..."

"'Scuse me, sir," came a deep voice from behind him.

Darcy grabbed at Wickham's jacket to keep him from running away and turned to see who was speaking. The saxophone player from the band had come out and was watching them impassively.

"Well?" Darcy asked.

"You keep out of this, Harvey Conroy!" Wickham spat.

"Oh, I'll keep out of it all right, Mista Wickham, jes' as soon as you pay what you owe me," responded Harvey. Turning back to Darcy, he asked, "What's your sister look like, if you don't mind my askin'?"

"She's eighteen. She's about this tall," Darcy responded, holding up his free hand, "with green eyes and fair skin and a nice slim figure. When she left she was wearing her pearls, a pink dress and a fur coat."

"I don't know about no fur coat or no pearls, sir, but I saw that Mista Wickham with a girl in a pink dress jes' the other day. And if that was your sister, I sugges' you go get her as soon as possible, sir. They was where no lady oughta be, if you take my meaning."

"That's hardly surprising. Can you show me where?"

Wickham snarled incoherently, but Harvey ignored him. "Yes, sir, I can."

Darcy turned back to Wickham. "I'll be off to get my sister, then. Thank you for your kind assistance," he sneered, and punched him one more time. Wickham sank to the ground, holding his face.

"My car is this way, Mr. Conroy," said Darcy, walking away.

"Darcy, wait!" called Wickham.

Darcy paused and looked back over his shoulder. "I can't be bothered with filth like you, Wickham."

* * *

"At least Jane is happy," Charlotte said, giving Lizzie a brief hug.

"I'm thrilled about that," Lizzie said, "just not about anything else. I get insulted, Lydia gets drunk...not the whoopee I was expecting." She fished a cigarette out of her handbag.

She glanced around. "Where'd that high hat Darcy go?" she asked. "He seemed to be glued to the wall earlier."

"Don't know. He was dancing with Caroline earlier, and then he vanished." Charlotte shrugged.

Lizzie smiled. "Good riddance," she said. "Hope he never comes back. I see Miss Caroline sulking at the table over there. Seemed awfully sure of him earlier."

"Oh, have a little sympathy, Lizzie. It's not like you have a man of your own, you know."

Over at her table, Lydia suddenly slumped forward. They watched Kitty shake Lydia's shoulder, apparently calling her name, and then look up at Lizzie when Lydia didn't respond.

Lizzie sighed and got up. "I told her she'd fall asleep soon. I just hope we can get her home before she upchucks. Tell Jane what happened, will you?"

"Of course. Good luck," Charlotte responded, smiling up at her.

Lizzie stood up and stubbed out her cigarette. She got Kitty to calm down, and the two of them started carrying Lydia out of the room. Lydia woke up enough to walk with their support, and they got out to the car without mishap.

Lizzie had just gotten Lydia and Kitty arranged in the back seats and was walking around to climb into the driver's seat when she saw a man stagger into the parking lot. He was sharply dressed in a gray suit and gray fedora, but she could see that his face was bloodied.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, walking over to him.

"What?" He looked up and saw her. "Oh, hello. It's nothing, just a bloody nose."

When he looked up she could see that he had the beginnings of a black eye. "You are hurt! Do you have somewhere to go? Do you need a ride?"

"No, I came here with friends but I think they've left already," he replied. "My name is Wickham, by the way. George Wickham."

"I'm Lizzie Bennet. Why don't you come to our house and let us clean you up? There's an empty seat in the car."

"I would truly appreciate that, Lizzie Bennet," he replied with a twisted smile. He climbed into the passenger seat.

Lizzie had to focus on driving for a few minutes, but once they were safely cruising down the road she glanced over at her new acquaintance. The black eye was only getting worse.

"What happened?" she asked.

Wickham sat back and looked pensively at the road. "I wish I knew, really. Darcy and I used to be such close friends."

"Darcy did this?" she asked.

"Oh yes. I think he came with the intention of finding me, just so he could bully me some more. We grew up together, you know."

"Really," Lizzie replied.

"Oh yes. His father and my father were good friends, even though my father worked for his father. His family was much richer, of course, but we were very close. We did everything together. Then at some point in high school...I don't know what happened, but Darcy started ignoring me."

"That's so sad."

"I hate to say it, but it gets worse. Darcy's father died when he was eighteen. He'd promised to pay for me to go to college, but Darcy wouldn't honor that promise. I couldn't go without the money, so here I am." He gingerly touched his eye.

"That's awful! Did you want to go?"

"Oh, I really wanted to go. I was going to study business, and open a theater with some friends of mine. But..." he trailed off.

"Has he been violent before?"

"No, this is new. He boxed in college, and I guess he decided he was out of practice and should take a swing at me. I didn't even say anything to him - I'm here to talk to the band about letting me help them."

"Are you a musician?"

I"m what you might call an agent. I know people, people who might want to hire a band like that one. If it weren't for Darcy, I'd know more people and I'd be the one hiring bands. As it is..." he sighed.

Then he looked over at her and smiled. "But it isn't all bad. I'm driving with a doll like you, and Darcy went off alone!"

Lizzie smiled back. "I'm glad you're able to enjoy things anyway."

* * *

_Wickham starts singing a verse from "It Ain't Gonna Rain No More" by Wendell Hall, which was popular in the mid-twenties. The full verse is:_

_Oh, a bullfrog sittin' on a lily pad, lookin' up at the skies._  
_The lily pad broke and the frog fell in, got water all in his eyes._

_It's a nonsense song, which seems appropriate for something he would sing to infuriate Darcy._


	4. Chapter 4

Lydia had started throwing up as soon as they got home. Lizzie left Kitty to comfort her sister and took care of George instead. Once she'd cleaned him up and made him a bed on the couch, she helped Kitty put Lydia to bed. Finally the house was silent, and Lizzie sat down to wait for Jane.

With the exception of George Wickham's appearance, Lizzie thought, it had been a pretty boring evening. Jane had danced the night away, Lizzie had been ignored, Lydia had gotten drunk and Kitty had admired Lydia. Just like always. Honestly, it might have been more interesting to go to a prayer meeting with Mary. At least this time Jane had found somebody with money. Jane hadn't had a real job since the hospital had finally closed down the extra wing the year before.

At least her job at the library was unlikely to change, she thought. And Kitty and Lydia were managing to keep their jobs at the clothing store downtown, so far at least. And when Mary finished her stenography course, she'd be able to get a job anywhere.

A car pulled up in front of the house. It was big and powerful and Lizzie didn't recognize it. A few minutes later, she saw Jane climb the steps onto the porch.

"Is that Mr. Bingley's car?" Lizzie asked, as she let Jane is.

Jane sighed happily. "He offered to bring me home when Charlotte told me you had left. He's such a swell guy, Lizzie."

"You know a lot of swell guys, Jane," Lizzie pointed out. It was true. Jane rarely had anything bad to say about anyone.

Jane laughed. "I know, but Charles is even better than most. He's sweet, and polite, and a wonderful dancer, and we just had the most wonderful time. He's offered to come over tomorrow and teach me to drive," she said.

"Well, he sounds lovely. I'm so glad you'll get to see him again."

"Me too. Oh, Lizzie, I'm so sorry about what his friend said. I couldn't believe anyone could be so rude!"

Lizzie thought of poor George, sleeping on the couch. "Mr. Darcy's rudeness is only the beginning, Jane. I'm sure I'd be much worse off if he had liked me."

She explained to Jane how she had met George, and what he had told her.

"...so you see, I don't much care what a bluenosed bully like that thinks of me," she finished.

Jane was staring at her, eyes wide. "But that's awful!" she exclaimed. "The poor young man! I'm surprised Charles can be friends with someone as petty and mean as that!"

Lizzie shrugged. "I suppose he can be pleasant enough when he wants to be. I'm just glad we know his true character now, so that none of us can be taken in."

"I am too. But I doubt we will ever see him again; Charles said he was just visiting for the evening. He'll be back in New York tomorrow."

"I'm glad to hear it. George will be glad too; this means he can get away safely. Poor man, I don't think he has much. I'll give him a little money when he leaves tomorrow, I think."

"That's kind of you, Lizzie, and I'm sure he'll be grateful. But for now you should go to bed," Jane replied, starting towards her own room.

"True. Good night, Jane."

"Good night."

* * *

Charles Bingley let himself into the house he and his sister had rented for the next few months. Caroline had gotten bored some time during the evening and left, so she was probably asleep in bed. She hadn't liked the music, or the people, or the drinks they served. Charles sighed. His sister was so fastidious, and never seemed to be happy. He'd found the music pleasant and the drinks tolerable and Jane...well, Jane was wonderful. But Caroline would probably be up early in the morning, full of reasons for him to take her back to New York immediately. If only Darcy was staying. Caroline would put up with anything if it meant staying near Darcy, though Lord knew it was obvious Darcy wasn't interested. But Darcy was doubtless already back in New York.

Darcy had left early too, he thought with a frown, presumably for whatever mysterious business had made him so determined to join them that night. Not that he minded Darcy's company, but he'd seemed oddly tense when he asked to go with them. What on earth was the point of coming down for a minor party in Meriton when he could have gone anywhere in New York? It had been a pleasant party, to be sure, but that was hardly a sufficient reason for such a long drive and such a short stay.

And Darcy hadn't even enjoyed the party! He'd been filthily rude to Jane's sister Lizzie, he hadn't ordered a drink, and he'd only danced because Caroline forced him to do so. Darcy wasn't a very sociable man, but he was usually polite. Why on earth had he come?

Charles shook his head, clearing his thoughts. It had been a splendid evening. Jane Bennet was wonderful: sweet, intelligent, beautiful, everything he could ask for. He would be able to see her tomorrow, too, and be alone with her in the car. That was something to look forward to.

He'd gotten to the top of the stairs when there was a knock on the door. He groaned and considered going to bed anyway. He was tired and cold, and his bed seemed very inviting.

The knock was repeated, this time louder. Charles sighed and slowly made his way back downstairs to the door. The clock in the hall caught his eye, and he realized it was past midnight. Who would be visiting at this hour?

He opened the door. Darcy was standing on his front steps, carrying someone. He looked cold, standing there in just his shirt and tie. He was pale and clearly exhausted. Charles realized that he was carrying his sister Georgiana, who was wrapped in her brother's coat. Her eyes were closed and her hair was dirty and disheveled.

Stunned, Charles stepped back to let them in. Darcy carried his sister into the parlor and laid her down on the couch that was there. He grabbed a blanket from the windowseat and put it over her, then arranged his coat under her head, spread out as if to keep her from dirtying the couch.

"What's wrong with her?" Charles asked.

"They gave her cocaine," Darcy said, touching her forehead to see whether she had a fever. "It's...I don't know much about how it works."

He straightened and looked at his friend. "Charles, I need a favor."

* * *

_At least he found her, right? Please leave a review if you're enjoying this - I really appreciate them!_


	5. Chapter 5

_And I'm back! Really looking forward to the next few chapters, actually - they should be interesting to write._

_And I love, love, LOVE the reviews I'm getting! Thank you so much! I try to respond to reviews/follows/favorites via PM, but I couldn't for some of you - thank you!_

* * *

"Of course, anything you need," responded Charles. He wished he could offer Darcy a drink - he certainly looked like he could use it - but he and Caroline had just moved in and he hadn't managed to find a reliable source yet.

"I think..." Darcy trailed off, looking bewildered. He sat down heavily. "Do you remember George Wickham?" he asked.

Charlie puzzled over the name for a minute. "I think so. Didn't you know him in college?"

"I did. We...well, it doesn't matter now. I...he owed money, I guess. Gambling, drugs, I don't know. Take your pick. Women, too. He...I was following him today," Darcy said. He put his head in his hands.

"Darcy, I can't help if you don't tell me what happened," Charlie pointed out.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm still trying to sort it all out." Darcy swallowed. "Let me start at the other end. Georgiana went missing a week ago. She left the house to go shopping and never came back."

"That's why you've been so distracted lately, then. Why didn't you tell me what was wrong?"

"There wasn't anything you can do, and I didn't like to speak of it."

Charles rolled his eyes. Darcy had a bad habit of keeping his troubles to himself, refusing to acknowledge it when he needed friendship.

Darcy sighed. If he'd noticed Charles's reaction, he didn't let on. "It took a while, but I found out that she'd left with Wickham. Georgiana had no way of knowing how rotten George has gotten. That's why I came to the party tonight: Wickham is working as an agent now, and the band that played is one of his clients."

"So you found Wickham. I saw you leave early."

Darcy nodded. "Tried to beat it out of him. Repulsive mongrel." He rubbed his face. "One of the band came out and knew where Wickham had taken Georgiana. He offered to show me."

"And she was there?"

Darcy nodded again. "A tiny rathole of a place, in the basement of one of the buildings in town. Wickham's sort of place. Georgiana was there, but in no state to talk to me. I had to talk to the chorus girls to figure out what happened.

"Wickham owed money to the owner of the place, a man named Joe Mineo. Apparently he made a deal - the debt would be forgiven if he delivered an heiress. The plan was to get her addicted to cocaine and then drain her purse."

Charles gasped. "And is she..."

Darcy shook his head. "She's been there a week, and I gather they were loading it on pretty fast. I talked to a doctor on the way here. There's no real treatment for cocainism. It doesn't do much physical damage, but the addiction affects the mind so deeply..." He covered his face again, and took a deep breath before lowering his hands. "We just need to wait. She needs time for the drug to clear, and then...we'll see what's left.

"I don't want to take her home like this. If this gets into the papers...you know how they tear people apart. Heiress Succumbs to Jazz-Age Drug, that sort of thing. It would be awful."

Charles nodded. "You want to keep her here?" he asked.

"Yes. If we can. A few weeks, maybe."

"Of course, stay as long as you like. There's plenty of room. But...doesn't she need a doctor?"

Darcy shook his head. "The doctor said there's not much to do. I'll need to find a nurse - someone trustworthy. Maybe pay her extra for her secrecy. But she can come here."

Charles sat up. "Jane Bennet."

Darcy looked up, puzzled. "Excuse me?"

"Jane could do it. She's a nurse, and she lost her job a while ago when the hospital closed the extra wing that opened during the war."

"That...might work. I'd ask her to sign something, promising not to tell...actually, if she pretended to be hired by you, that would be even better."

"Of course, Darcy, whatever you need. I'm sure she'd never expose Georgiana so cruelly, but do whatever you think best."

Darcy looked at his friend sardonically. "Your faith in her character is a beautiful thing, Charles. You've known her for all of five hours."

Charles shrugged. "Sometimes you just know what a person is like," he said. "In any case, you need to sleep. We'll speak to Jane in the morning."

* * *

Eight hours later, Darcy was finishing his tea at the heavy wood table in the dining room when the door opened and Charles and Jane walked in. He put down his cup. "Miss Bennet. Thank you so much for coming," he said.

She smiled gently. "It is rather early, but Charles said you needed a nurse, Mr. Darcy."

"I do indeed, for the next week or so. Are you available for that time?"

"I believe so. Charles also said you might have some...conditions?"

"I...Yes, I'm afraid I do. This is a matter of utmost secrecy, but I would pay well for your discretion. I will have to ask you to sign a document promising not to tell anyone, even your sisters, about your patient or even that I was the one who hired you. I'd like you to pretend that you are working for Charles."

"I...I'm not sure what to say, Mr. Darcy. You may be assured of my secrecy, of course, but I don't...I don't want to do anything illegal," she said, looking worried.

He smiled slightly. "I will not ask you to do anything that is illegal or immoral or against your own conscience, Miss Bennet. Just to keep my private affairs private."

"If that is all, then I would be happy to oblige, Mr. Darcy."

"Excellent! It would be simplest if you could just live here, I think."

Jane nodded. "I can do that. I've done a little private nursing before, you see."

Darcy stood up and reached for the contract he'd typed up in Charles's study earlier that morning. It would have been safer to have a lawyer draft it, of course, but Darcy needed it to be done quickly and wasn't certain he could find a local lawyer to trust. He thought he'd covered the necessary points. "If you would sign this, Miss Bennet," he said, pushing it across the table towards her.

Jane took it and picked up the pen to sign, but stopped when she felt Charles's hand on her arm. "You'd better let me read it over first, Jane," he said kindly.

"Of course," she said, blushing faintly, and handed it over to him.

Charles read it over. "Is $10 a day all right, Jane?" he asked.

"That's very generous, sir!" Jane said, startled.

"I know. I appreciate your confidentiality, and I feel you should be compensated accordingly," replied Darcy.

"Th-thank you," she stammered, staring at him.

"Everything else looks right," Charles said, and handed it back to Jane.

Once it was signed, Darcy took Jane up to see his sister. She was still asleep, and in the clear light of morning they could see how her dress was torn and her hair was dirty and tangled. Her arms were covered in healing bruises, and a cut on her shoulder appeared infected. Jane stepped forward and silently examined her left arm, where several of the injection sites were also infected.

Jane looked up at Darcy. "I'll need some supplies, sir, as well as my things. There's not much I can do until she wakes up, so if you don't mind I'll go and get them."

Darcy nodded, and Jane left to get what she needed.

* * *

_A couple of notes:_

_- Alfred Mineo was one of the controllers of one branch of the New York Mafia in the 20s. I'm guessing Joe is a cousin or something._

_- Cocainism is the older term for cocaine dependence. As far as I can tell from my research, cocaine actually has very few direct physical effects. Hiring a nurse for her is probably actually overkill, but I can't really blame Darcy._

_- According to the Washington State Nursing Association, in 1919 they got the wage of a private nurse increased to $5 a day. I don't know how much variation there was across the country, but I'm guessing $10 was pretty generous._

_Anyway, that's our chapter! Hit the review button and let me know what you think!_


	6. Chapter 6

_100 visitors and not a single review? I think I might cry :( Here's the next chapter anyway_

* * *

"Kitty, I think that lipstick might be too dark for you," Lizzie ventured gently, watching her sister apply her makeup. She didn't want a fight with Kitty, but Kitty would look much prettier if she could be convinced to change her makeup a little. And if Kitty was prettier, she might get more attention herself instead of always being in Lydia's shadow.

But Kitty barely glanced at her. "This is the lipstick Lydia uses," she said, carefully creating the cupid's bow shape that was popular for lipstick.

"Yes, dear, but your complexion is different from hers. You're fairer than she is. You know you always need less powder than she does," Lizzie replied, hoping the compliment about her fair skin would make Kitty more willing to listen to advice.

"So I need less munitions. So what? I think it's pretty this way," Kitty said, now pulling out a new mascara preparation she had decided to purchase in town the day before.

Lizzie put down her teacup and ate the last piece of toast from her breakfast. "It is pretty this way, but I think a lighter shade might be even prettier, Kitty. You always end up on your own after Lydia abandons you, and I think you'd have more fun if..."

"Lay off, Lizzie, just because you're older than me doesn't mean you know everything!" Kitty cut her off. "Lydia's hip to the jive, and you're just being grungy!" She gathered up her mascara and flounced down the hall, to use the mirror in the tiny bathroom.

"I don't know why you bother, Lizzie," said Mary, calmly pouring herself another cup of tea. "Makeup isn't a worthwhile pursuit anyway. She would do much better to read a book."

Lizzie smiled wryly. "My powers of persuasion do not extend that far, Mary. I shouldn't think anyone would be able to manage that."

"It is a pity she cannot be persuaded to take interest in serious affairs," replied Mary.

The door opened, and Jane rushed in. She greeted her sisters briefly and then darted upstairs.

Lizzie got up and followed her up the stairs. "Jane? I something wrong?" she asked.

Jane looked up from packing clothes into a bag. "Nothing is wrong, Lizzie. I have a job!"

"A job? What sort of job?"

"Mr...Charles needs a private nurse. It's only for a week or two, but it pays well."

Lizzy was puzzled. Neither Mr. Bingley or his sister had looked ill, and surely if they had been in an accident they would have gone to the hospital. "Why does he need a nurse?" she asked.

"Because...oh dear, I'm afraid I'm not supposed to talk about it. I promised I wouldn't, even to you."

"Jane, what on earth..."

Jane saw how flustered her sister was and got up to give Lizzie a quick hug. "Everything's all right, Lizzie. It's just it's very private and they don't want to risk it getting into the papers, so I can't talk about it."

"Oh. Okay," Lizzie replied, not at all certain that it was okay. A thought occurred to her. "He's not asking you to have sex with him, is he?"

Jane blushed. "For heaven's sake, Lizzie, of course not! He wouldn't do that, and I wouldn't either. Don't be ridiculous."

Lizzie sighed. Her sister was rushing, but didn't seem agitated, so it probably was all right. "Well, do enjoy your mysterious new job. Do you have a secret alias as well?" she asked teasingly.

Jane laughed at her. "No, of course not Lizzie," she said, gathering up her cosmetics and putting them in a smaller bag. "Would you mind finding something for me to read?" she asked.

"Of course. I just bought the new collection of Jeeves stories, would you like that?"

"That would be perfect. So cheerful for a sickroom. And maybe the Father Brown book? I find him awfully soothing."

"Sure."

Lizzie had just seen her sister off when she heard Wickham groaning in the living room. She went in to find that he was stiffly attempting to sit up, so she rushed to help him.

"I'm glad you're finally awake," she said. "You must have been awfully tired. How do you feel?"

"Awful," he said, holding his side as if his ribs hurt him.

"Well, you have a beautiful black eye, but I'm glad to see you awake. Would you like some breakfast?"

"Abso-lute-ly, baby," he grinned back at her. He got up and slowly followed her to the dining room.

"At least you're well enough to flirt," she commented, as she poured him tea.

"A little of that noodle juice and I'll be well enough for nookie," he replied, with the same flirtatious grin. "Why don't you join me?"

She smiled and shook her head, but poured herself another cup of tea and sat with him.

"Do you know Charles Bingley at all?" she asked after a moment.

"Don't think I do. Who is he?"

"A friend of Darcy's. He just hired Jane to do some nursing work for him this morning. Something secret, I don't know why."

"Bingley. You know, maybe I have met the fella. Darcy must have introduced us. Don't know him, though. Are you worried about your sister?"

"A little. She thinks everything's jake, but then she always does. I don't want her to get hurt."

Wickham laughed bitterly. "Not much hope of that with Darcy around. If Bingley is the fella I remember, he seemed copacetic, but so did Darcy, at the time. You be careful of your sister, Lizzie. If she's a bit of a sap, she's lucky to have someone as sharp as you around."

Wickham reached over and grabbed the package of cigarettes lying on the windowsill next to Lizzie's purse. He lit two, and passed one to her. They smoked in silence for a minute.

"Are you well enough to travel?" Lizzie finally asked.

Wickham looked at her in surprise, and she found herself stumbling over her words. "Not that we aren't glad to let you stay, of course, but the house isn't very large, and..."

Wickham smiled at her. "No, of course baby, you don't need me hanging around. I'll get going back to the city." He stood up, still moving slowly.

Lizzie fished a couple of quarters out of her purse and pressed them into his hand. "For bus fare," she said, smiling at him.

He curled his fingers around hers. "Thanks, Lizzie. You're a real smarty," he replied, smiling down at her.

* * *

_Hey, someone left a guest review while I was writing! Thank you so much!_

_Notes:_

_- I've decided this is in 1925, so the Wodehouse book mentioned is_ Carry On, Jeeves_. _The Innocence of Father Brown_ was written in 1911 by G. K. Chesterton, and I do indeed find it very soothing - though actually I prefer Chesterton's _What's Wrong With the World_ when I'm feeling agitated. He has a way of making the world make sense again._

_- Smoking is a terrible plan. You know that, I know that, Lizzie doesn't._

_- as always, see my profile for a link to the slang dictionary I'm using._

_Love you all, bunches and bunches. What do you think Wickham will try next? Let me know in the reviews_


	7. Chapter 7

Darcy scowled at his newspaper. He was attempting to read the reviews of his theater's latest show, but it was increasingly difficult to focus. Georgiana had woken up long enough to drink some milk, but she was asleep again. Jane had cleaned and bandaged her cuts, and given her a sponge bath, but there wasn't much else to be done until Georgiana woke up properly. He wanted to talk to his sister, to confirm that she was okay and alive and that all would be well, but he'd just have to wait.

_Billy King swaggered across the stage as if he owned it in his debut role as..._

"Hey, daddy, I noticed you were working hard over here."

_Go chase yourself, Caroline_, thought Darcy. It wasn't enough that his sister was sick upstairs, he also had to deal with Caroline draping herself over him like the boyfriend he certainly wasn't.

He gritted his teeth. He couldn't offend Caroline with Georgiana upstairs, still too ill to be moved. Caroline was a good dancer, and she turned all heads when she got dolled up, but he regretted having taken her dancing from time to time. She'd read more into it than he'd ever intended.

He shook the newspaper to straighten it. "Yes, Caroline, I am working."

She didn't take the hint. "You read those reviews every day, don't you? I think it's just wonderful how well you know your onions," she purred.

"I read what I have to," he replied. He glanced up at the clock. Just past one: too early to check on Georgiana again.

"How is dear Georgiana? I'm so sorry I must stay away from her room, I'd have liked to sit with her. We always have such lovely conversations - she absolutely slays me!," said Caroline.

Darcy had told Caroline that Georgiana had come down with measles, to keep her away from Georgiana's room. Quite aside from Caroline's tendency to gossip, Darcy had no wish to subject his sister to Caroline's insinuations.

"She's as well as can be expected," he replied tightly.

"Do tell her I hope she is better soon. It is so kind of you to hire a nurse for her! Such a brotherly thing to do."

"Well, as I am her brother, I suppose that's to be expected."

"Of course. It's also clever of you to hire that Jane. My brother is a sap, but even he can't ignore that she's not worth his time if she's just an employee. Though I do think you should be concerned about exposing Georgiana to her. You wouldn't want her to learn bad habits. I'll visit Georgiana as soon as I can, so she has something to listen to besides that woman's inane chatter."

Darcy closed the newspaper and stood up, grabbing his coat as he did so. "I'm going out," he announced, "I'll be back for dinner."

He didn't slam the door, even though he wanted to. He tucked the newspaper under his arm and started striding down the street, determined to put as much distance between himself and the house as possible.

After a minute, the walk and the cool air had refreshed him, and he slowed down. This really was a charming little town. His managers would be surprised that he hadn't returned to New York as planned, but the town was pleasant enough to make a spontaneous vacation believable.

He stopped and took a deep breath. Now where was he going to go? He wanted to finish his newspaper, and his secretary had sent him some paperwork to look over, but of course that was still in the house. Did this town have a library? At least he could get a little reading done.

The town's main street was a ten minute walk, and once he was there he had to ask a couple of people before he found someone to direct him to the library. It was a tiny brick building with a bright green door. The collection couldn't be large, but he was sure he'd find something to read.

He entered, and the librarian looked up from the card catalog to see who had entered. Her brown bob, blue eyes, and delicately pointed chin were familiar, but it took him a minute to recognize her. She'd been wearing makeup last night, of course, but she also looked calmer and more confident today.

"It's Lizzie, isn't it?" he asked, "I think we met last night?"

She straightened and brushed off her gray dress. "That's right. You're Will Darcy. I heard you were going back to New York today?" she asked.

"I...my plans changed. Charles...needs some help, so I'm staying to keep him company."

Keeping his friend company, an impulsive vacation, a case of the measles - the stories he was trying to keep straight were growing. Not to mention whatever story Jane might have told her family. Well, he only had to maintain it for a week or so. If he failed, the situation would rapidly begin resembling one of the comedic farces his theater produced every summer.

"I see," Lizzie replied crisply. "What can I do for you, Mr. Darcy?"

"I was mostly hoping for a quiet place to finish my newspaper," he said, waving it vaguely for her to see.

She briefly narrowed her eyes at him, but then turned and pointed to the adjoining room. "There's some comfortable chairs in there, if you like. And we do get a selection of papers, if you wish for others." She turned back to the card catalog and knelt down to resume filing cards. He found himself following the path of her slim fingers as she found the place for the next card, and noticing how her smooth hair skimmed along her jawline.

He realized he'd been staring at her. "Thank you," he said to her back.

He shook his head to clear it and headed towards the chairs.

Lizzie heard him go and sighed. It wasn't enough that Mr. Big Cheese Will Darcy had to come and ruin everyone's night last night, apparently he just had to come to her library and stare at her. At least the library would be closed in a few hours.

* * *

_This is (probably) the last chapter for this week. We'll get more Darcy-Lizzie interaction in the next few chapters, so that should be fun._

_Please review! Even just a smiley face makes my day_


	8. Chapter 8

Jane tried to focus on Bertie Wooster's antics, but it was hard to read while her patient was sleeping so uneasily. Georgiana was dreaming, probably reliving the past week in her sleep. She'd struggled against dream assailants, and pleaded for her brother or her parents or for George. Now she was crying and whispering "Violet. I'm sorry, Violet," over and over again.

Jane leaned forward and stroked the sleeping girl's face. "Shhh," she whispered, "It's okay. Everything's okay now. Just sleep."

Georgiana settled back down, and Jane pulled her chair a little closer to the bed before picking up her book again. She wished Mr. Darcy was in the house, since his voice seemed to comfort Georgiana more than Jane's did. But the nightmares wouldn't last forever, and Georgiana was healing.

Jane suddenly looked back up at Georgiana, puzzled. Who was Violet? Mr. Darcy had mentioned talking to chorus girls named Dolly, Sally, and Trixie, but no Violet. Maybe she was a school friend? Jane shrugged, making a mental note to ask Mr. Darcy about Violet next time he visited.

* * *

Darcy sat down and opened his newspaper, determined to concentrate. The reviews of his latest show were good, but it clearly wasn't the sensation they'd been looking for. Perhaps they should rework the second act - it was clearly the weakest.

His eye skimmed over the other articles. The paper gleefully reported the story of a wealthy young woman who had spent her entire fortune on cocaine before dying of pneumonia. Apparently her family claimed they'd had no idea she was using drugs. Sensationalist drivel. He'd been right to do everything possible to keep Georgiana out of the papers.

Footsteps made him look up. Elizabeth Bennet had crossed the room, her arms full of books to reshelve. She set them down and began searching for the right place for the first book. Her black mary janes seemed to emphasize her slim ankles as she stood on tiptoe to reach the top shelf.

A girl in her late teens approached Elizabeth. "Miss Bennet? Could you help me again?"

Elizabeth put down the book she had just picked up and smiled at the girl. "Of course, Molly. Are you still reading _Sense and Sensibility_?"

Molly shook her head. "No, we finished that. It was really sweet at the end. This is Shakespeare." Her voice sounded so doleful that Darcy chuckled to himself.

Elizabeth glanced over at Darcy in annoyance, but immediately refocused on Molly. "I'm sure we'll manage to work it out," she said cheerfully, guiding Molly to a table and sitting down in one of the chairs, "Shakespeare isn't so bad once you get the knack of it. Which play is it?"

Molly sat and pulled out her book. "It's called _Much Ado About Nothing_. We had to read the first scene, and I don't think I understood any of it!"

Elizabeth laughed softly as she watched Molly find the place. "Well, the trick with Shakespeare - especially the comedies - is to assume that anything you don't understand is probably a sex joke."

Molly looked up, eyes wide. "Really?" she asked.

Elizabeth shrugged. "Really. Talking about nookie was as popular then as it is now. People don't really change that much." She turned a page of the book and began to explain the context of the play.

* * *

After Molly and Elizabeth had identified all the sex jokes (and discussed the actual events) in the first scene of _Much Ado_, Elizabeth got up to finish shelving books. Darcy found himself watching her do so, admiring the curve of her neck and the way she swiveled her hips slightly when she was thinking or looking for the right place on the shelf. When she went back to the front desk, he impulsively got up and followed her.

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "Do you need anything, Mr. Darcy?" she asked.

"No," he said. He stood for a minute, staring at her, and then recollected himself. "I'm just going out to get something to eat."

She nodded. He fidgeted slightly, but didn't actually move.

"So, all of Shakespeare reduced to sex jokes," he teased lightly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Not all of it, of course. Shakespeare is appealing because it reminds us that humans are always human. Arrogant, prideful, vain..."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "And witty," he said, looking at her, "you must not forget witty."

"Yes," she said flatly, and turned back to her work.

Darcy smiled and went out to find a restaurant.

* * *

While he ate, Darcy wondered what was getting into him. He'd almost asked Elizabeth if she wanted to join him, which would have been insanity. Quite aside from Georgiana's state, getting involved with a small-town librarian was a ludicrous idea. He knew some of the wealthiest and most sophisticated women in New York, and he needed a wife who would know how to conduct herself around other wealthy men.

Of course, he couldn't imagine any of those women giggling over Shakespeare. Most of them hadn't read him since high school, and the few that had never deigned to notice the comedies.

He paid his bill and left the restaurant, and was about to head back to the library when he saw Caroline leaving a shop a few doors down, bracelets flashing and nose in the air. He ducked back into the restaurant entryway, but fortunately she was going the other direction. It occurred to him that if Caroline was out shopping, he could visit Georgiana while she was gone.

* * *

Elizabeth looked at the clock. Darcy really should have been back by now, assuming he was planning on returning after he ate. So apparently he wasn't coming back. Not that she cared, of course, she was just keeping an eye on who came and went in her library, as she always did.

A delivery of new books had arrived, including a bound collection of new Sherlock Holmes stories. Elizabeth remembered reading Doyle's stories with Jane, and how much they both enjoyed them. Perhaps Jane would enjoy these too, while she was working. Elizabeth checked the collection out in Jane's name, put a sign on the desk saying she'd be back in twenty minutes, and headed out towards Mr. Bingley's house.

* * *

_So I realized I was getting kinda bored with the story, so I'll be taking it off in a different direction than what I had intended. Well, more or less anyway. Should be fun._

_I'm assuming that Sherlock Holmes (which was published in the UK) took a couple of years to reach the States. Or maybe the library just took a while to get it._

_And Shakespeare really does have a lot of sex jokes._

_Please review! It makes me happy!_


	9. Chapter 9

"Her cuts are healing well, sir, and she's woken up long enough to eat a little a few times. I'd still like to get her in the bath, but it will wait. She's still having nightmares, though."

Darcy nodded. "I expect that's normal. She's been through a lot," he said, looking thoughtfully at his sister. He looked up at Jane. She looked a little pale, and she wouldn't be good for anything if she fainted. "Is there anything you need?" he asked shortly.

She shook her head. "I'm fine. Just a little hungry."

"Go ahead and eat something, then. I'll sit with my sister."

Jane nodded. "Thank you. I won't be long." She got up and headed towards the door. "Mr. Darcy?" she asked, looking back at him.

"Yes?"

"Your sister has mentioned someone named Violet a few times. I...is that someone you know?"

He frowned thoughtfully. "I don't believe so. I imagine she has school friends I haven't met, of course, but I don't think she's mentioned a Violet. Did she say anything else about her?"

Jane shook her head. "Not really. She just says 'I'm sorry, Violet.' She calls for help sometimes, asking for you or your parents or for George."

Darcy's face went blank at the mention of his parents. "Thank you for letting me know," he said, and turned away to watch his sister.

* * *

Lizzie was passing the drugstore, book in hand, when she head a familiar voice. "Hey, doll, didn't expect to see you here," said Wickham, pushing himself away from the wall to touch her arm.

Lizzie looked up at him. The bruises were still there, but they looked less puffy and were even beginning to fade a bit. "I thought you were heading back to New York," she said, startled.

He grinned at her. "Well, I was, but I thought what a shame it would be to leave a nice skirt like you behind. Besides, we aren't far from the city, so a few more contacts in this town might be useful."

"You do know that Darcy is still around, don't you? I had to put up with him all morning at the library."

"He didn't start anything, did he?" Wickham asked, stepping closer and taking her hand.

"No, he stared at me some, but I won't get screwy over that. I'm just worried about you."

"Oh, don't worry about me," Wickham replied, placing her hand on his arm as he turned to walk with her, "If Darcy wants to make some sockdollager of things, that's his problem. I won't mind him."

"That's very sensible of you. I do wish my sister wasn't working for his friend, though."

"Well, with his friend there I expect he'll stay on the level. What's Jane doing for his friend?"

"I don't know, she won't tell me. He's hired her for a week or two, to do some nursing work."

"Well, that's a bit odd. If you want me to stay around town, I will. I don't mind pretending to be a drugstore cowboy for a while if it means I can be on hand when I'm needed."

"I must admit, that might be comforting. But I don't want you to stay if it will cause trouble for you. I know what it is to be short on scratch," she said, smiling up at him.

"No bother at all, doll. I'll stay a bit. Might even crash a blow or two. You want to come? It's more fun to crash with a sheba along."

* * *

Darcy stroked his sister's hair as she slept. Jane had washed it and combed it, and it was good to see it shiny and clean again. He wished his parents were here, to help Georgiana heal and make the nightmares go away. Now it was his job, and he couldn't always protect her. His mother would have known what to do.

Of course, if his parents were still alive, George would no doubt still be hanging around the theater. Maybe if he'd had ready access to Georgiana he wouldn't have stolen her like this. He'd be bleeding her dry either way, of course, but maybe it would be better...he shook his head. There was no point in dwelling on it. He wanted George out of his life and out of his sister's life. Maybe that had made George angry, and maybe the anger made his behavior worse, but George was no good for anybody, and Darcy knew it. He'd just have to do a better job of keeping Georgiana safe. At least now she'd know he wasn't to be trusted. Let George find someone else to hang on. If Darcy ever had to deal with George again, it would be too soon.

Georgiana stirred, and her eyes opened. She focused on her brother's face, but then her gaze wandered across the room.

"You're awake," Darcy said, smiling down at her.

Georgiana grunted her agreement.

"I'm glad. You've been asleep a long time. Are you feeling better?"

Georgiana sighed. "I suppose," she said, still gazing blankly at the ceiling.

"You're at the house Charlie has rented for a few weeks. Did I tell you he was going out of town? It's a little town called Meryton. Not much to recommend it, but I suppose it'll do. I'll take you home as soon as we can travel without the press suspecting anything. You'll feel better once you're back at home, I'm sure," Darcy said, taking her hand.

"Doesn't matter," Georgiana said.

"I suppose that's true, as long as you stay in bed. I checked with Caroline, and she assures me that she chose the linens herself. I've mostly been avoiding her, but at least she knows how to provide for her guests. I told her you have measles, by the way, so she won't be visiting."

Georgiana smiled briefly.

"But soon you'll feel better, and then we'll head back to the city and see a show or two and life will go back to normal," Darcy continued, "You'll practice your music and I'll find a new play to put on and we'll forget this ever happened."

Georgiana closed her eyes, apparently deciding to go back to sleep. "See, Violet, I told you so," she mumbled, and then she was silent.


	10. Chapter 10

_As always, check my profile for the link to the slang dictionary I use._

* * *

Jane was just starting the meal the cook had fixed for her when Charlie came in.

"Jane! I'm so glad to see you!" he said, stepping forward.

She smiled back. "I'm glad to see you too. It's been so odd, working in your house and not actually seeing you."

"How is Georgiana?" he asked.

"Getting better, I think. It's a little frustrating that there's not much to be done for her. I'm mostly just letting her sleep."

"I'm glad it isn't too much work, at least. And that you're eating something. May I join you?"

"Yes, please do."

Charlie stepped into the kitchen to speak with the cook, and came out a few minutes later with a plate of his own. They sat and ate, quietly smiling at each other.

* * *

A block away from Bingley's house, Wickham stopped suddenly. Lizzie turned to look at him, but nothing appeared to be wrong.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Everything's fine, doll. I'm just...a little tired, I guess. Do you mind if I wait here until you get back?"

"Of course, you probably shouldn't be walking so much. I'm not in a hurry; why don't I wait with you? I'd like to introduce you to my sister."

"No, go on without me. I'll sit here a while," Wickham said, sitting down and pulling out a cigarette.

Lizzie waited a minute longer, but Wickham didn't look up at her, so she hurried on down the street.

* * *

Jane stepped out onto the porch to greet her sister. That way she'd be less likely to see anything she shouldn't. Lizzie hugged her fiercely before handing over the book.

"Thank you, Lizzie! I'm at loose ends most of the time, just waiting for...well, at any rate, I can certainly use some more reading material," Jane said, opening the cover to scan the list of titles. "This looks lovely. How has your day been?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "That Darcy has been lurking in the library all afternoon. He left for dinner a while ago, and hopefully he won't be back. He just reads the newspaper and stares at me and makes it quite clear he thinks I'm doing a terrible job."

"Lizzie, I've talked with him a bit, and I think he might have a lot on his mind. You probably shouldn't assume the worst about him."

Lizzie laughed. "Yes dear, I know you must always find excuses for everyone. But truly I don't think he likes me. I can't think why he came at all."

"Well, I heard Charlie's sister talking to him this morning. Perhaps he wished to be alone."

"Avoiding his hosts all day is not exactly polite behavior either, Jane."

"No, but...well, I've known you to hide in the library when the house gets noisy, Lizzie."

Lizzie gave her sister a sharp look but would not respond.

They sat for a minute, enjoying the cool evening breeze, and Jane said, "I should probably go back in soon. Charlie and I were eating dinner when you arrived."

"Probably. Just the two of you?"

Jane nodded happily. "Caroline is out shopping, I think, and Mr. Darcy is...well, he's not eating with us. It's nice; Charlie's so nice to talk to."

"Jane...are you crushing on him?"

Jane blushed. "Maybe a little. He's just so nice, Lizzie. I like him."

"Well, I'm glad you like him, but you be careful. He's your boss, and that...changes things. You can't be certain he isn't just being polite."

"Lizzie, it isn't like that!"

"I'm sure it isn't. Just be careful, okay Jane?"

* * *

Wickham ground out his cigarette, stood up, and leaned against the fence of the house he had stopped in front of. He was a little tired, but he didn't want to go anywhere near Darcy right now. Lizzie ought to be good for some fun, if he could keep her ignorant for long enough, and so far Darcy was playing right into his hands.

The loss of Georgiana was a hardship, of course, but there were plenty of other heiresses, and he and Joe had a good system worked out. Lizzie didn't have the money to be good for anything but a bit of fun, but Caroline Bingley might be worth making a play for.

It was really rather a pity Lizzie hadn't accepted his invitation. She was charming and confident enough to be a real asset as a business partner, but it was obvious she'd never be willing to take that role.

The sound of giggling interrupted Wickham's musings. He looked up to see two girls walking nearby, laughing so hard they had to hold on to each other for support.

"Evening," he said, tipping his hat at them. They looked up and he realized they were Lizzie's younger sisters, who had been in the car last night. "Where might you nice young things be going to?" he asked.

The shorter one just gaped at him, but the taller one answered coyly, "We were just heading home. I'm Lydia, and this is Kitty. Aren't you the swell that Lizzie brought home last night?"

"I sure am, baby. Name's George Wickham. I'm surprised you weren't too zozzled to remember me," he added, with a teasing note in his voice.

"Takes more than a little hooch to get a bearcat like me bent," she responded. "I remember perfectly. Lizzie isn't the only one who noticed you."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. Meeting you is just the elephant's whistle. What's a tight doll like you doing in a town like this?" he asked, offering Lydia a cigarette and lighting another for himself.

"A girl can't help where she's born. But I'm going to go to New York as soon as I can and be a star," Lydia explained, accepting the cigarette and taking a long pull.

"We both are!" interjected Kitty, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. "We're working on a sister act!"

"Are you really? So you sing? Dance?"

Kitty nodded enthusiastically.

Lydia said, "Well, I sing, and we both dance. Kitty likes to harmonize, but...well, anyway, we'll see once we get to New York!"

Wickham smiled down at her. "You know, I might be able to help with that..."

* * *

_And that's it for this week! I've started cross-posting at ao3, also under the name ladyphlogiston, so if you prefer that site feel free to look me up there. The review button is right there, you know how to use it._


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